


i wanna spend all my nine lives with you

by scoutshonour



Series: home is wherever i’m with you [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cat Puns, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Modern Era, Pets, Polyamory, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 10:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoutshonour/pseuds/scoutshonour
Summary: "Wha ... Jonathan!? You? You brought. A stray. Kitten. Into our apartment."He's not sure if Nancy's annoyed or just incredibly perplexed, so Jonathan opts to pat the space on the floor next to him, cocking his head towards the spot. "So you're caught up. C'mere and pet her.""I know, I'm surprised too. I'd expect for any animal to willingly follow Jonathan for about five streets to, like, you know, be violent and murderous."(or: Jonathan finds a stray cat on his way home andof coursethey keep her because Steve adores the sight of his boyfriend with an animal and Nancy can't ever say no to him)





	i wanna spend all my nine lives with you

**Author's Note:**

> since someone suggested a Stoncy pet fic! hope this doesn't disappoint. :)

Jonathan’s not sure if he’s imagining it or not.

He _must_ be, because animals hate him. They always have. He always assumed there was this aura to him, something about his presence that screamed evilness, that scared off all living things, both human and animals. Since that is how most of his life has gone, with everyone, people and animals, running away from him.

But things _have_ changed. People—two extraordinary, beautiful people in particular—have proved to him that maybe, the entire human race doesn’t despise him, along with the handful of friends he’s made at NYU, the kind of people he always dreamed of knowing.

So maybe it’s not that unrealistic that a stray kitten _is_ following him, his eyes catching flashes of light, grey fur each time he glances over his back to see if she’s still there.

On the sixth time he checks, he squats in front of her, slow and careful. She doesn’t snarl or paw at his face, coming to a stop when he does. Her blue eyes bat and when she looks into his eyes, Jonathan crumbles.

He scoops her up into his arms, smiling when she doesn’t thrash or try to escape from of his grasp. “Hey there, friend,” he says gently, “I’ve got you.”

He’s not sure what reaction to expect from Steve and Nancy. Their apartment allows pets, a maximum of two, so that’s not anything to worry about, but would either of them mind? He can’t imagine Steve not wanting a pet, but Nancy, he’s not so sure about. But maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. A cute kitty like her, how can she not be loved and adored by an owner?

He makes his way back home ten minutes later, finding Steve splayed out on the couch with a mess of candy wrappers on the coffee table next to him.

“Hey, babe, how was sc— _holy shit, is that a kitten!?_ ” He squeals, jumping up to his feet and rushing over to Jonathan. He places a quick peck to his check, then fawns over the kitten.

So Steve’s obviously okay with it.

“Where the hell did you find this precious angel?” Steve asks once he’s done cooing and aweing, extending his hand out to run his fingers through Jonathan’s hair.

Jonathan instinctively leans into his touch, making a pleased noise. “She followed me home. I couldn’t resist.”

He leaves Steve to play with the kitten as Jonathan showers and changes into something more comfortable—black sweatpants and one of Steve’s Captain America shirts that he and Nancy take turns ‘borrowing’—and when he returns, they fawn over her together.

Nancy comes home half an hour later from her shift at the library. When she sees them, her eyes light up and her mouth starts to twitch into a smile, but it stop when she spots the kitten.

"What. The hell. Is that? _Steve?_ ” Nancy grits out, jutting her chin out at the kitten cradled in Jonathan’s arms. He winces because he recognizes that disgruntled tone; he’s equal part attracted and horrified by it.

"What—why do you assume that _I_ brought it here?" Steve cries out.

Before Jonathan can help himself, he huffs out a defensive, "She's not an it," His lips thin into the barest of smiles when the kitten purrs contently in his lap as he tries to avoid Nancy's look. He can imagine it, clear-as-day: the rapid blinking, her eyebrows furrowing out of confusion as she tries to fathom how _this_ boyfriend, the least impulsive, more rational of the three, brought a stray home. Which he understands, for the record; he himself has trouble believing that he brought the stray home, and not Steve.

"What ... Jonathan!? _You?_ You brought. A stray. _Kitten._ Into our apartment."

He's not sure if Nancy's annoyed or just incredibly perplexed, but she looks seconds away from having an aneurysm, so Jonathan opts to pat the space on the floor next to him. "So you're caught up. C'mere and pet her."

"She's really friendly," Steve adds, tucking his chin onto Jonathan's shoulder. "I know, I'm surprised too. I'd expect for any animal to willingly follow Jonathan for about five streets to, like, you know, be violent and murderous."

Jonathan clucks his tongue to the roof his mouth. "I was about to profusely thank you for coming to my defence until that last part. You were doing _really_ well."

"I meant that as a compliment!” Steve insists. “Like, you're so _cool_ and _mysterious_ that you attract all the bad-ass animals. You get what I mean?"

Jonathan rolls his eyes and suppresses a smile when Steve darts forward to nuzzle his neck.

Nancy looks between them both rapidly and bewilderedly, before she draws out a heavy exhale and plops down next to Jonathan.

They watch her intently as she warily eyes the kitten, her hand lifting only to abruptly stop mid-air. “What am I supposed to do?” Nancy says with an adorably frustrated pout. “ _Touch it?_ ”

“That’s … that’s generally what petting it is, yeah,” Steve says, lower lip slightly curling as Nancy shoots him a glare, reaching over Jonathan to shove his arm.

“You _guys,_ she’s not an it—” Jonathan interjects, scooping the kitten up from his lap and bringing her close to his face.  She stares him right in the eye, proceeding to rub her warm cheek against his. Jonathan decides he’s in love.

“What?”

Nancy and Steve stare at him with matching expressions that he can’t read, exteriors cracking when their mouths twist into smiles.  

“You just …” Steve trails, scratching the back of his neck. “You just look really cute with her _._ S’all.”

“ _Really_ cute,” Nancy adds, leaning forward to press her mouth softly against his. They render Jonathan flustered, a dopey smile on his face when she draws back with an equally sheepish grin.

He slants against the couch cushion, his fingers absentmindedly touching his mouth. “I see you trying to avoid petting the kitten by distracting me with your kisses.”

“Is it working?”

“I don’t know,” Steve chimes in, “maybe you should kiss me. That’ll definitely distract Johnny Boy.”

Nancy licks her lips, inching closer towards Jonathan until her knee bumps against his. “Just for distraction purposes?”

“ _Obviously_.”

“Oh, well, then if you don’t _actually_ wanna kiss me—”

“Nance, of course I want to, how could I _not—_ ”

Nancy shuts him up with a kiss, Steve spluttering against her mouth until she deepens it by pulling his collar towards her.

If Jonathan died right here, with a kitten curled up in his arms, and his girlfriend and boyfriend kissing over his lap, he’d die happy. His heart glows with warmth and it feels full, a sensation that he never knew was possible until these two waltzed right into his life without so much as a warning and stayed.

Jonathan’s not aware that he’s staring until Nancy says, lipstick very much smudged, “What is it?”

“You’re not mad, are you?” He blurts out. “That I brought a stray home? I just, she just kept following me, and those eyes, they stare into your _soul,_ and I couldn’t just leave her—”

“Jonathan!” Nancy interrupts with a shaky laugh. “It’s fine. I never knew you liked animals and Steve’s basically a cat himself—”

“Then is it cannibalism since I’m such a good—“

Nancy’s flat look cuts Steve off with an arched eyebrow. “Do you want to finish that sentence?”

Steve winks, leading to Nancy biting down onto her lip to unsuccessfully hold back a smile.

“It’s just … I’m a _clean_ person. Plus, animals and I don’t really get along.” Nancy swallows, her shoulders loosening when Steve and Jonathan both reach out to soothingly rub her arms. “But we can keep it. For _now_ . And if after we’ve put up about a couple dozen lost and found posters, then we can talk about keeping it permanently. Sorry, her. Keeping _her_ permanently.”

“You know I love you, right?”

She beams, looping her arm around Jonathan’s arm and extending her leg to foot Steve’s thigh. “You can tell me a couple hundred more times.”

Steve squeals, beaming as he picks the kitten up and brings her towards Nancy’s face. “ _Thank you, Nance, I promise not to get cat hair all over your shit—_ ”

“Steve, get that thing away from me!”

“Nancy, she’s not a thing!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They plan to post thirty-two lost and found posters, to be exact.

“Are you serious?” Steve says through a yawn, too tired to sound admonishing. He makes a cup of tea for Nancy, who’s singing can be faintly heard from the shower.

“It needs to be a good picture,” Jonathan murmurs. He carefully sets the kitten down onto a stool he has set in front of the only empty wall in their apartment, right by their front door. Thankfully, she doesn’t protest, curling up contently on the seat.

“God, I love dating a photography major. You’re the only reason there are _any_ decent pictures of me.”

“What’re you on about, every picture of you is more than decent, asshole,” he says without missing a beat.

“Aw, see, I knew you would say that. You’re such a good boyfriend, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do, ‘cause you tell me _all_ the freaking time,” Jonathan teases, while he adjusts the light gently shining on the kitten’s face. “But don’t stop or anything.”

She squints up at the light, hissing vehemently, and Jonathan nearly curses as he hastily switches it off.

“Jesus,” Steve scowls, whipping his head around to gawk at the kitten. “What the fuck demon just possessed _Kitty Purry_?”

“We’re not calling her Kitty Purry,” Jonathan says automatically. He bends down in front of the kitten and, thumbing the shutter on his camera slung around his neck, snaps a few pictures. He doesn’t bother waiting for her to look in his direction; he has class in an hour and Nancy’s pushing for them to hang the posters up today. “And we’re not calling her Halley Purry, either.”

“We can’t just keep calling her the kitten! That’s like calling you the human. You hear how ridiculous that sounds? She needs a name, goddammit.”

Jonathan sighs, snapping another picture. “Remember what Nancy said: no naming until after we’re sure she doesn’t belong to anyone. ‘Cause if we do name her—”

“Then we’ll get attached, and it’ll be heartbreaking if it turns out she has an owner and we can’t keep her,” Steve completes with a knowing look, “Yeah, I remember. But I’m telling you, there’s no way she has an owner. The city’s filled with strays, and even if she _did_ have one, we’d be much better parents, anyway!”

“Parents,” Jonathan repeats, standing back up to full height and trying not to look amused. He scoops the kitten off of the stool and sets her free onto the floor.

Steve pshaw’s and leans against their kitchen counter, bringing his mug of coffee up to his mouth. “You get what I mean, dipshit. She’s practically our baby already, and you know…”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“It’s be good practice for the real thing,” he says softly, his mouth stretching into a nervous smile.

Jonathan practically skips the few steps over towards Steve, so eager that he nearly stumbles over his own feet, reaching out to caress his cheek once he’s right in front of him.

“Yeah. It would,” Jonathan agrees, envisioning Steve behind a barbecue grill and telling shitty dad jokes, Nancy spinning toddlers up into the air and laughing as she makes whooshing sounds, all the while Jonathan snaps dozens of pictures because he’ll want to remember _everything._ He imagines giving their future children his camera and framing whatever visible shots they take and he _wants_ it, so badly. Because he knows Steve would be a phenomenal father, the stay-at-home type who constantly bakes; Nancy would be wonderful, the PTA mom who’d throw hands at any principal, teacher, or parent giving her or their kids shit; Jonathan, well, he’d be a sucker who’d spoil them rotten because he couldn’t say no to anything.

Plus, Jonathan’s _damn sure_ he’d be better than his father, not even because he’d be there—but because he’d _want_ to be there.

Steve fidgets with his hands, glance set on Jonathan’s feet. “I’m not—I’m not freaking you out, am I? I know that's like, ten billion years away but—“

“No!” Jonathan cuts in. “No,” he repeats firmer, tipping his chin up, forcing Steve to look him in the eyes. “You’re not. I want the white-picket fence and _everything,_ Steve Harrington.” Maybe it _is_ too early to talk about something so far-away, a conversation that doesn’t need to be had for years now, but now that the idea is planted in his head, he’s giddy with the thought.

It also doesn’t help that it’s clear that Steve’s given this some thought.

Steve’s grin is infectious, slow and unwinding until sheer joy takes up his entire face. “Good, Jonathan Byers, ‘cause you’re kinda stuck with me and Nancy.”

“I’m cool with that.”

“Dork,” he laughs, and when Jonathan kisses him, he can taste the coffee on his lips and thinks that this is a good way to wake up.

Nancy hums as she walks into the living room. They break apart at the sound of her footsteps, their eyes instantly finding her. Jonathan’s breath catches in his throat when he sees her, her entrance having a similar effect on Steve whose eyes light up like they always do whenever she enters a room.

“Good morning to me,” she says smugly, striding towards them. She’s dressed for her day, bags of tiredness underneath her eyes but put together nonetheless with a yellow crop-top and black jeans, looking radiant as ever.

“How _dare you_ say things like that and call me lame.”

Nancy scrunches her nose, accepting the cup of tea Steve hands her. “Because you are lame? Like, extremely? And when I say those things, it’s cool. Right, Jonathan?”

Jonathan tries not to laugh, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “Actually, you’re both in fact, very lame. The lamest people I know,” he says with certainty, distinctly remembering a very drunk Nancy sobbing as she tried to smear their faces with a highlighter because ‘you’re _important’_. “But it’s one of the things I love most about you…?”

“Smooth save, babe,” Steve says, giving him a thumbs up.

Nancy wags a finger at Steve as she sips from her mug. “You did this to me. You turned me into a cheesy pile of mush.”

“I have no regrets.”

She feigns annoyance with an eye roll, turning to Jonathan and enveloping him into a kiss. He lets out a surprised groan, but eagerly welcomes her. Kissing Nancy Wheeler always takes a lot out of you. She kisses with determination, with intent, firmly and strongly; always an affirmation that she’s here, she loves you, she’s not going anywhere. It manages to leave him starstruck  every time.

She pulls away with a hand on Jonathan’s chest and a hint of a smile, then swiftly turns to Steve. “Brushed your teeth?”

“Does drinking coffee count?”

Jonathan splutters. “I’m sorry—you didn’t brush your teeth?”

Steve shrugs, running a hand through his bedhead. “See, it’s not that bad if Jonathan didn’t notice.”

As Jonathan gripes “do you not give a fuck about hygiene” Nancy tugs contemplatively on her lip with her teeth, her fingers tapping against the mug she’s holding. “Fuck it. Never question how much I love you.”

She surges forward, pulling his hair gently to bring him down so she can capture his mouth into a kiss. Jonathan watches with a small smile, spying a grey flash by his feet.

“Hey buddy,” he hums, bending down to pick her up.

Steve pulls away when he spies the kitten wrapped up in Jonathan’s arms, cooing. “Hey there, Puma Purrman—”

“We’re not calling her Puma Purrman,” Nancy and Jonathan say immediately.

“But I already have five videos of her running around with the _Kill Bill_ sirens! At least consider it.”

Jonathan gives him a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement because he can’t deny how precious Steve is. “It’s not _that_ bad of a name,” he appeases, because at least Puma Purrman isn’t as bad as Kitty Purry.

“Plus, Uma _is_ my aspiration in life—” Nancy says.

“Oh shit!” Jonathan exclaims when he glances at the clock hung up above a picture from their first date, from when they went ice-skating. Before Nancy can protest, he dumps the kitten into Nancy’s arms and darts to their bedroom. “Gotta leave for class. Fuck, where’s my bag ...”

Nancy’s eyes widen and she shrieks, holding the kitten up by her scruff. “Jonathan!” She seethes.

“Nance, she’s not going to hurt ya,” Steve says calmly, wrapping an arm around her to ‘guide her hands’, “just—here, hold her like this.”

Jonathan pants as he returns back to see Nancy, visibly distressed, her nose wrinkling and eyes squinting at the kitten she’s cocooned into her chest. The kitten claws happily at Nancy’s palm, making Nancy hiss. “She keeps _scratching_ me.”

Steve and Jonathan share a similar smirk as Jonathan slings his backpack over his shoulder and Steve chews loudly on his French toast.

Nancy snaps her head up. “What?”

“It’s just ironic,” Jonathan offers vaguely, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Since, like, you scratch us a lot, too. Don’t give me that look! Jonathan made the joke too! Give him one of your death-stares.”

“But babe, these stares are designated just for you.”

“Awh—”

“Okay,” Jonathan interrupts, tugging on Nancy’s arm. “We have class, remember? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but stop flirting. Education comes first.”

Nancy happily drops the kitten into Steve’s grasp, her meow as she cozies into his chest making something in Jonathan’s chest flutter.

“Remember to-”

“Dump the kitty litter, buy some more cat food. I know. You guys need breakfast, what—”

Jonathan calls over his shoulder as he flings the door open, “We’ll buy some bagels or something on our way. Don’t worry.”

Nancy downs the rest of her cup of tea in one go, frantically waving at Steve who looks so, utterly adorable that Jonathan stops, forgetting that he’s in a rush. Him and his tousled hair, his coffee-stained sweatpants, and the pink crop-top he’d stolen (and stretched out) from Nancy make him tempted to take a picture.

But then Nancy’s pushing him out the door, with a teasing “Education, remember, we can gawk at him later” and they’re calling out “I love you”’s with ease, even after the door slams shut.

“Hey, I thought you hated tea made by anyone other than yourself.”

“I do. I just don’t have the heart to tell Steve ‘cause he’s just so cute,” she sighs, and Jonathan finding himself thinking the exact same thing about Nancy too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like Steve predicted, no one calls.

Jonathan and Steve are ecstatic after their agreed upon waiting period of two weeks pass. They make a big deal of it; bringing the kitten along as they buy bags of toys, a water bowl, a _proper_ kitty litter, nail clippers, and a collar. That doesn’t leave much left to do, except for one thing.

“What about Hermeowne?” Steve suggests.

Jonathan grins down at the kitten who jumps and successfully grabs the fabric, blue fish. “Uh, huh, yeah, sure …”

“He could pretend to listen a little better,” Steve mumbles without any annoyance, looking up at Jonathan who’s perfectly content playing with the kitten. With a slight shake of his head, he pops a piece of fresh popcorn from the bowl in Nancy’s hand.

She slaps his hand away, yanking the bowl away from his reach.  “Start eating now and we won’t have any for the movie. And why can’t we name her something, oh, I don’t know, not punny? Like. Ooh! Ruth! Let’s name her Ruth!”

Steve narrows his eyes at her, tugging one of the numerous comforters they have splayed out across the floor over their laps. “Ruth? You want our cat to be an elderly woman?”

“Aren’t all cats elderly women, really?” Jonathan says dazedly, lifting the rod a little higher.

“What—we’re not naming her Ruth!” Steve squeaks indignantly.

Nancy leans onto Steve’s shoulder to pull at Jonathan’s leg. “Jonathan,” she whines, “c’mere.”

Swallowing a chuckle, he lowers himself next to Steve. They shuffle so they’re as close as possible, Steve extending the blanket onto Jonathan, Jonathan wrapping an arm around the both of their shoulders. He hooks one of his legs over Steve’s and absentmindedly reaches for Nancy’s hand, and despite the intense July heat and subsequent the sweat sticking to his skin, he’s comfortable.

“Who has the remote?” Jonathan asks.

“Get up.”

“It’s not under my ass, Steve.”

“Nance, I swear, if it _is,_ you will have a very annoyed boyf—”

“It’s under your ass, you idiot.”

“Oh really, Jonathan, I just think you like having an excuse to touch m—oh, shit, sorry Nance.”

Jonathan tucks the rod underneath a throw pillow on the couch, his face scrunching up as his eyes search the room. “Hey, where’d she—”

“What. The fuck.”

Jonathan tries not to snort when Nancy freezes out of absolute terror as the kitten nestles herself onto Nancy’s lap, licking excitedly at her arm. Jonathan almost doesn’t see her due to the dimmed lights and the greyness of her fur, but that look of horror is unmistakable.  Nancy, who’s taken self-defence classes since she was fourteen, who’s undoubtedly the physically strongest in their relationship, is afraid of a _kitten_. He fights back the temptation to laugh.

Steve, however, doesn’t give a shit, and laughs. “Her spit isn’t poisonous, babe.”

“It’s all over my arm. God, can she just—”

“You know,” Jonathan says quietly, “usually, if a cat licks you, that means they like you,” which effectively shuts Nancy up, a soft ‘oh’ tumbling past her lips as she slumps against the back of the couch. She clenches her jaw and slowly brings her hand down, running her fingers through the kitten’s fur, making her purr. Nancy sighs out of relief and her faint smile doesn’t go unnoticed.

Steve and Jonathan share a knowing grin. They knew she’d give in and eventually succumb to loving the shit out of their new pet the same way they had; it was just a matter of when.

“Told you she’d cave before the month milestone passed,” Steve whispers, his lips brushing against Jonathan’s earlobe.

“Shut up and choose a movie.”

“How about _I’m Always Right?_ ”

“I didn’t know there was a movie written about me,” Nancy says, stroking the kitten’s belly, and Jonathan’s not sure whether it’s himself or Steve who rolls their eyes harder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“My love for you is like a hairball. I can’t hold it in.”

“Gross. You’re gross.”

“Says the guy who’s fingers have _literally_ been up my ass.” Steve pauses from mocking Jonathan, his favourite pastime it seems, lifting his head up from Jonathan’s lap to check the analog clock perched on their bedroom dresser. “Ugh. Nancy said she’d be back by eleven,” he says, frowning.

“If I kiss you,” Jonathan proposes, combing his fingers through Steve’s soft hair, “will you stop complaining, especially when she’s only ‘late’ by _five minutes_?”

“I’ll do anything you want,” he mumbles with a lazy grin. His hands shoot up to pull him down by the top of his shirt and he lets out a strangled groan, because God, both of his partners are unbelievably strong.

“Duly noted. Would you kill a man?”

“I’d kill _ten._ ”

“Would you … shave your head?”

“If you and Nance promised not to leave me. I know my gorgeous hair is, like, thirty percent of why you’re with me.”

“It is not!” Jonathan insists, bending down until his lips brush against Steve’s. “It’s more like fifty.”

Steve’s laughter rings through his ears, and he tilts his head up to meet Jonathan in the middle. They stay like that, mouths pressed together, for a minute or two before the door slams open. They jerk away from each other as the thud reverberates throughout the apartment.

“Honies! I’m home!”

Steve and Jonathan exchange a look or horror mixed with amusement, clambering to their feet and racing over to the front door.

Nancy walks towards their pantry with ease, so she’s not _that_ drunk. Her hair’s kind of a mess and her mascara’s a little smudged—Nancy cries when she’s drunk, he’s not surprised—and she’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. “I missed you guys,” she says, her cup of water splashing by her feet when she tilts it upwards, into her mouth.

“You saw us five hours ago,” Steve says somewhat smugly, definitely enjoying the surge of affection unseen from Sober Nancy.

“And?”

Jonathan chuckles, gently pushing Nancy forward and steering her towards their bedroom. “Let’s get you out of that dress. ‘M sure you’re dying to get into something comfortable.

“Yes, please.”

They help her out of her dress as she tells them about her night out with her friends, dressing her in a Disney tee and a pair of purple shorts. She sprawls herself out across the bed, yawning. “Where’s my baby?”

“Hmm?”

“My. _Baby._ ”

“Jonathan, I think she means the cat.”

As if on cue, the kitten strolls into their bedroom. Jonathan lifts her up and places her carefully into Nancy’s arm, watching in puzzlement as she smiles and nuzzles the kitten. “She’s so pretty. Isn’t she pretty?”

Steve sits at the edge of the bed, Jonathan following suit. “I thought you didn’t like her?”

“I didn’t. And I don’t. ‘Cause I love her. It’s like, it’s like literally impossible not to love her. Y’know?”

Jonathan has about zero idea where this came from, this sudden burst of love and appreciation, especially since Nancy’s been acting indifferent and nonchalant towards the kitten this past week, since their movie night, but he’s here for it.

Steve beams, whipping his phone out. “You’re too fucking cute.”

They snuggle up together per Nancy’s request—“can you both come here already, I can’t cuddle myself, can I?”—and Jonathan’s half-asleep when Nancy blurts out fifteen minutes later, “Katniss!”

He rubs his eyes and asks, “What’s that?”

“We’re naming her Katniss. Get it? Like, like Katniss. But it’s Cat-Niss.”

“Catniss,” he repeats blankly, “okay. I like it. Kind of a weird revelation to have in the middle of the night.”

She scoffs. “ _You’re_ a weird revelation to—”

“ _Why_ are we shouting?” Steve says through a yawn, sending a drop of spit onto Jonathan’s cheek.

“What do you think of the name Catniss?”

Steve loudly gasps. “It’s perfect.”

“You know what else is perfect?”

“You?” Steve and Nancy say in unison.

Jonathan’s too taken aback to respond, uselessly stammering out a series of syllables. “Uh, what, no, that’s not, I mean—”

“Ha, look, we broke him, Nance.”

“We seem to do that a lot. I think we’re good at it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re good at everything.”

There’s a prolonged silence. “You’re … you’re … you have a nice ass,” she says solemnly, and Jonathan agrees by reaching across Nancy to grab his ass affirmatively.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

(In the morning, Nancy wakes up, covered in cat urine, and deadpans, “I take back what I said, I don’t love Catniss”. Steve snorts and wags the pictures he’d taken last night, and she rolls over Jonathan to fight Steve. Jonathan cries out about how she’s getting cat piss all over him and their sheets, only to be ignored. He sighs resignedly and looks up how to remove the stain and whether this means Catniss has a terminal illness or something.)

**Author's Note:**

> hey there!! I missed these goofballs. drunk Nancy is a national treasure. also, got that highlighter bit from Tumblr.
> 
> also??? this kitten was so Insignificant and did like five things, one of them PEEING on NANCY but I wanted to write it anyway don't @ me
> 
> any who thanks 4 READING have a nice day!! 
> 
> comments/kudos are always appreciated since ya girl craves validation.


End file.
